A poem of shadows
EvilToasterElf
Posts: 1,119
The part that leads and follows
A man walks along a pier
following his own shadow,
considering the state of his marriage
he does not notice when his shadow
swallows a dog, or a pigeon
or two old ladies eating lunch on a bench.
He walks with the sun on his neck
and the world on his mind,
led by a human cloud,
which tilts its head
lets its arms absently fall to the side
and crushes a half dozen pigeons.
A shadow plays in the waves
while he looks out over the water.
He stares farther and farther away
as if he could only peer into himself
by following his gaze along the
curve of the Earth’s circumference.
He turns to go back to his office
and his shadow follows him like
a cape, an echo that keeps pace
with its source.
When he arrives at his building
the shadow of that tower consumes his own.
He is left a man in the dark.
When he reaches the window
of his corner office, his shadow
returns silently to his desk and
across the carpet.
The shadow of his left hand
cast darkness over his signatures,
and the surrounding legal texts.
When he folds the documents back together
and leans back in his chair,
the curve of his head is cast
onto the entirety of his divorce.
His wife arrives under the streetlights,
her shadow is bloated with an unborn
child.
The pregnant darkness sheds no water
from its two dimensions.
Soon that shadow will split in two
and will live under the black
worrying veil of its father.
A man walks along a pier
following his own shadow,
considering the state of his marriage
he does not notice when his shadow
swallows a dog, or a pigeon
or two old ladies eating lunch on a bench.
He walks with the sun on his neck
and the world on his mind,
led by a human cloud,
which tilts its head
lets its arms absently fall to the side
and crushes a half dozen pigeons.
A shadow plays in the waves
while he looks out over the water.
He stares farther and farther away
as if he could only peer into himself
by following his gaze along the
curve of the Earth’s circumference.
He turns to go back to his office
and his shadow follows him like
a cape, an echo that keeps pace
with its source.
When he arrives at his building
the shadow of that tower consumes his own.
He is left a man in the dark.
When he reaches the window
of his corner office, his shadow
returns silently to his desk and
across the carpet.
The shadow of his left hand
cast darkness over his signatures,
and the surrounding legal texts.
When he folds the documents back together
and leans back in his chair,
the curve of his head is cast
onto the entirety of his divorce.
His wife arrives under the streetlights,
her shadow is bloated with an unborn
child.
The pregnant darkness sheds no water
from its two dimensions.
Soon that shadow will split in two
and will live under the black
worrying veil of its father.
Post edited by Unknown User on
0
Comments